As We Go
by shimmeryshine
Summary: A hug. A compromising position on a couch. Some breakfast. You know, things that friends do.


Beckett stares apathetically at the illuminated screen of her cell phone, sighing as she flicks her thumb idly over the icons on the home screen, finally landing on the little green phone button and giving it a jab. Castle's been gone on his US Heat Rises book tour for three weeks, and her recent calls log is glaringly showing his absence.

Ryan.

Ryan.

Esposito.

Lanie.

Gates.

Gates again. (oops)

Cibo's.

Beckett's stomach rumbles as her eyes pass over the name of her favorite Italian restaurant whose food is currently en route to her apartment. It's almost nine and she is _starving_. Her hands idly twirl her phone around the countertop as she waits for the buzzer to announce the arrival of her dinner, eying her empty kitchen dejectedly. She hates how much she dislikes eating alone now; Castle has ruined her with his ever-present shadow, but instead of dwelling on it, she decides to pad into to her bedroom to get comfortable so she can sack out on the couch with a book and her meal as soon as it arrives.

She's just pulling her sweatshirt over her head when she hears the sharp electronic buzz echo off the metal of her front door. Her sweatshirt slips off of one shoulder as she jogs across the kitchen and depresses the button, already practically tasting the pasta she ordered before it's even within smelling distance.

When a knock sounds on her door, she all but yanks it off its hinges, freezing when she reveals a certain ruggedly handsome writer instead of Jake, the dark haired delivery boy she was expecting. "Castle?" she breathes as his face lights up at the sight of her, holding up the white bag of food emblazoned with the red Cibo's logo. Her own face is a mirror of his, a wide smile and wider eyes, unchecked happiness made sweeter with the tinge of genuine surprise.

"I intercepted Jake outside," he says easily, voice sounding so damn good in her ears.

It's impulse then, that makes her suddenly lurch forward, and then her arms are around his shoulders and she's pressing her face into the crook of his neck and _inhaling _because she unexpectedly needs to have the woodsy scent of him filling her head. Then both of his hands are spanning her back and she's dimly aware that he must have dropped her food, but he's here in front of her and not in California or Chicago or Miami, and she can't bring herself to really care.

Her cheek presses against his for longer than is strictly necessary as she soaks in his proximity for one moment longer, and then pulls her head back enough to see his face again. She tries furiously not to blush as the reality of what she's just done hits her somewhat hazy brain, but then his palms slide down her back and away, releasing her in a slow glide that makes her bite her lip when one of his thumbs finds its way to the sliver of skin left bare between the rucked up hem of her sweatshirt and the elastic waist of her leggings.

"Miss me?" he grins, the sound of his voice rumbling up and out of his chest and into hers. She idly tries to replace the shoulder of her sweatshirt as she watches him lean down to pick up her dropped dinner, regarding him with a tilt of her head.

"_Yeah_," she breathes, shrugging as his eyes sparkle at her from her doorway. Her heart pounds a little bit too hard as she realizes she truly means it, and that she has somehow come to the point in their partnership or friendship or relationship or _whatever _where she is comfortable enough to let him know it. The smile she flashes is one of the ones she usually saves for the back of his head, but she's too unused to being around him again to fight the tugging in her cheeks.

He seems to appreciate it anyway as he trudges past her into her kitchen, pulling the foil containers of food out of their bag as he goes. "I hope you ordered enough for two because I am _famished_." It is so like him to waltz in unannounced after weeks and immediately try to steal her dinner. The intoxicating smell of real, authentic Italian food has her mouth watering, and it is the deep twinge in her stomach that makes her slap his hand away from the lid he is trying to extract, making him yelp with surprise.

"So much for the hugging," he mumbles as he puts his hands up in the air like a criminal, making her roll her eyes.

She snatches the container of eggplant parmesan out from under Castle's raised palms, clutching it to herself like a child. He raises an eyebrow at her classic show of possessiveness, and it's just like he never even left at all. "I haven't eaten since this morning Castle, this is _mine_."

Instead of volleying her banter back at her, Castle's brows furrow enough to make her realize she's given something away, and then he's doing a sweep of her body with his eyes, taking her in in a way that is altogether too familiar and practiced with a little twinge of _worried_. It makes her skin tingle.

"What?" she says flatly, unsure of what exactly has caused the shift in his demeanor. "You can have my side of spaghetti."

"You look thinner," he says pointedly and then she clicks onto his train of thought. He's nervous about her eating habits when he's not around to feed her, which is equal parts annoying and sweet because she really does get too wrapped up in her work to do anything but mainline coffee sometimes. Most times if she's being honest with herself.

To avoid addressing his statement, she grabs a plastic fork off the counter and shoves a mouthful of eggplant in her mouth, grinning around it and chewing exaggeratedly. He shoots her a look, eyeing the way her shoulder is peeking out from under her sweatshirt again, but roots around for the container of spaghetti instead of pushing.

/

"So," he starts after several minutes of silent chewing, propping his feet on her coffee table as she flicks the tv to a documentary about pirate ships. "Cibo's eh? Jake said this is the third time this week he's brought you dinner."

Beckett freezes with her fork halfway to her mouth, shooting him a sidelong glance that says _you know exactly why I was ordering from Cibo's_. It's probably their most visited late night eatery in the city, and the entire staff knows them by name. Half of them don't speak any English and assume they're married, to her endless annoyance. "You know I like their pasta, Castle," she deadpans, daring him to call her out.

He doesn't though, and they go back to chewing in silence, watching as long lost treasure twinkles enticingly on the tv.

"Remember that time we dug up that treasure in the graveyard?" she asks him sleepily, hiding a yawn behind her hand as she pushes their empty food containers farther across the coffee table with her foot. She's thinking about the sweaty hug they shared and the exhilaration zipping through her veins when her shovel had hit that metal box. She had felt a little bit like a pirate that night, with Castle filthy and grinning by her side, her trusty first mate.

"Aye," he says, adopting the deep drawl of a pirate. She laughs softly and shifts against his side, her head coming down to lean halfway against the back cushion of the couch and half against his shoulder. The food in her belly is making her feel heavy and satisfied, and his presence at her side has her more content than she's been since he left. She never wants to move.

"Sorry I made you give it back," she trails off, yawning again, this time with fluttering eyelids. He chuckles against her, moving an arm around her back and then she's tucked into his side so completely that she _knows_ she should move, but he starts playing with the ends of her hair, and his body is so warm and solid that the only thing she can do is sink deeper into him and surrender to the soft pull of slumber, just for a minute.

/

(Until one minute turns into six hours later.)

/

The first thing she notices upon waking is that her pillow feels…_weird._ And also that she appears to be surrounded by something heavy. A mumble slips past her lips as she tries to come fully awake, to make sense of her position, and when she feels movement against her stomach, she realizes that there is a _person_ underneath her, around her, against her. Her eyes slide closed again as the previous night comes back to her, and she becomes acutely aware that the weight all around her is Castle. And he is _everywhere_. Their legs are tangled completely, he's got one arm snugly wrapped around her middle, and her head is resting comfortably on the swell of his bicep. They are basically spooning on her couch and she wants to die a little bit to avoid the look on his face when he wakes up and realizes the position she's let them get into.

He is as annoyingly in tune with her thoughts while fast asleep as he is during his waking hours, because immediately following her thought, Castle stirs behind her, sleepily pulling her closer before completely freezing. She gives him a minute to assess before she wraps her fingers around his wrist and plucks his hand from around her hip.

"Ka—" he starts to say her name, her _first _name, and in a situation like this she cannot even bear to hear him say it with his gravelly morning voice right against her ear. She suppresses a shiver.

"Just…don't Castle," she says, trying to extract her legs from his and epically failing to do so, ending up with half her body on the floor of her living room and half gripping his shirt for balance. He's trying not to laugh at her as she struggles to her feet.

Her glare is enough to keep him blissfully silent.

"I'm just going to…" she points toward the bathroom, patting down her hair and rearranging her shirt as she walks backward down the hall, watching as his soft face gives her an affectionate smile and a nod.

When she emerges a few minutes later with a freshly washed face and most of her faculties back in check, he's standing almost completely inside of her freezer, rooting around for something in the back. He must find what he's looking for, because as soon as she steps fully into the kitchen, he turns her way, triumphantly holding up a box of frozen waffles.

"I'm making you breakfast!" he says cheerily as he rips into the packaging, grabbing a handful of waffles and popping them into her toaster. "Or at least waffles, since you have nothing else in your entire fridge except expired swiss cheese." His look is mildly reproachful, but mostly playful, and she kind of wants to say thank you until she is distracted by the sound of coffee dripping into her pot on the counter. Then she _really _wants to.

He flits around her kitchen like he belongs there, grabbing plates and forks as he goes, stepping around her as she reaches for two coffee mugs. He's back at her side after a moment, their hips bumping familiarly as she waits for the coffee to finish brewing and he waits for the waffles to pop. She has to physically stop herself from analyzing their entire interaction from the previous night to the present because she can almost hear Lanie's voice in her head about how _domestic _they're being and _what is the point of waiting if you two are practically dating anyway, girl let's be real_.

He notices the small laugh she exhales as she shakes away the thought. "What?" he says, smiling at her like they're sharing a secret.

"Nothing," she dismisses him, shaking her head and then he looks at her from under his eyelashes and she rolls her eyes. "I just missed you, okay?" It's not what she had been thinking about, but it is the _truth_ and he's making her waffles in her kitchen at six o'clock in the morning so she feels compelled to at least offer him that.

"I missed you too," he says saccharinely as he suddenly pops an entire waffle into her mouth, making her grunt in surprise. He winks at her as she scowls at his juvenile streak, biting off a chunk of her waffle and chewing as she pours their coffee.

She thinks about slapping the back of his head as she sits down on the stool next to him, but her coffee is calling so instead she takes a large sip and pushes his until it bumps against his plate. He nods appreciatively and drinks it down, munching on his waffles quietly until the shrill sound of her phone cuts through their comfortable silence. Lanie's name flashes up at her from the screen as she thumbs the answer button, speaking her name into the receiver.

She watches Castle move to open his mouth as Lanie tells her the details of a crime scene downtown, and almost falls off her stool as she moves to press her fingers across his lips, effectively silencing him. She shakes her head and makes a soft _shh_ sound as she tells Lanie she'll be at the scene in twenty minutes, dropping her phone and her fingers at the same time.

"Ashamed of me detective?" he asks, pouting around his coffee mug.

"I don't want every single person at the crime scene thinking we slept together," she says, plucking their empty plates from the table and walking them over to the sink. He's slow with his retort, which she realizes belatedly is because he has followed her over to the sink, crowding her as leans down to speak against her ear.

"Well we did technically _sleep_ together," he says lowly, making her fingers grip the edge of the sink.

She turns around to face him with a sudden pivot of her hips, catching him off guard. He's _so_ close, but she leans closer. "If you tell anyone about how we woke up this morning," she starts, her tone of voice just barely edging on indecent. "I _will_ shoot you." His eyes dip down to her mouth for a long moment, betraying his thoughts as her gaze holds steady, years of practice in the interrogation room finally put to good use.

Before he has a chance to make a move, Beckett gives his chest a little shove and ducks under his arm on a path to her bedroom.

"If you're coming to the crime scene, I suggest you at least go run some water through your hair," she calls out over her shoulder as she walks, stripping herself of her sweatshirt once she is sure she's out of eyesight.

She hears his footsteps as he walks the opposite way into the bathroom, shutting the door loudly enough so she knows he's coming. Her face breaks into a grin as she pulls on real clothes, the cloud of his absence finally lifting.

She doesn't _need_ him, doesn't need anyone to do her job well or live her life, but if the events of the summer have made her aware of anything, it's that there is nothing wrong with _wanting_ him there with her. He's loud and pushy and utterly ridiculous, basically everything she's not, but that's what makes them such an unstoppable team. And they are that, _unstoppable_, because with him hovering by her side she feels like there's not even a question that her murder board will lead them to the killer, and that is not something she always used to feel.

She doesn't need him, but she thinks that maybe she could learn to.


End file.
